The Demons of Addiction
To all of you who have been so supportive and who’ve followed my writing, you’ll note I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been wanting to get my thoughts on “digital” paper sooner, but it’s taken a bit of time to collect myself.
If what you’re about to read could save one life, then my words and wait are worth it.
My wife and I have endured the ultimate pain: the passing of a child, our daughter.
I’ll be very candid; our daughter was a severe alcoholic. She didn’t want to be and certainly hadn’t planned on it. And as many know, it is sadly more common than it should be. If you are dealing with it yourself or know someone who’s caught in the throes of addiction, you can attest to how powerful it is.
My wife and I finally left the denial phase about ten years ago and accepted that our daughter had been taken hold by the addict demons. As the years passed, she became progressively worse. Her body was destroyed by something many of us do every day: have a glass of wine, beer, a cocktail with dinner. It’s legal but has proven deadly a million times over.
Barely a day goes by that we don’t hear about a celebrity, musician, or Hollywood actor, who has died of an overdose. But there are thousands of others who die silently and become nothing more than ten-point type before quietly fading away.
Not to their families, however.
Our daughter would have been fifty this year. During the last ten years of her life, she didn’t live. Alcohol had grabbed her so fiercely it was all that mattered.
As parents, we tried everything. We sent her to rehab. Got her medical help when she accepted it. Eventually though, we ran out of ideas. The reality was and is and always will be: it’s up to the addict. We heard this truth from everyone involved in the terrible world of addiction. Our daughter would tell us as much herself.
When I was given pushback for trying to help and suggesting AA or another program, she said she could fix it herself. This angered me. I would step back and not talk to her for months at a time. I didn’t know what to say or do anymore. Then guilt would take hold, and I would reach out again.
When she was sober, my heart was joyful; I loved talking with her about Disneyland and her plans to buy a new condo in Palm Springs someday. Over the years she lived with us for months at time trying fix herself and we were grateful for that effort. Only to drive home and start in again before the sun set.
The cycle continued. Not hearing from her for days or even a week at a time sent up the red flag. The countless nights I lay awake picturing her suffering alone in her apartment, thinking that tonight was the night it would end. I couldn’t ignore it. I would call the police for a wellness check. She lived a hundred miles away and I had to rely on others.
Most times, she answered the door and told the police she was fine and that they should leave her alone. The police said they knew she was drinking but couldn’t do anything about it. Then there were those times I had the police break in where they would find her clinging to life.
After numerous times in the hospital and barely surviving, I thought she had reached the bottom and would turn her life around. It never lasted. Despite after each visit, when the doctors would tell her, “If you drink again, you will die.”
I had lost all sympathy. I became emotionally numb.
The offers of help from her mother were continuously turned down as well. I was angry at the alcohol. Angry at the liquor store that would deliver it to her front door. And furious at the reason why she became an alcoholic in the first place. A reason I don’t want to write about. It wouldn’t change things anyway.
My wife and I struggle with the usual question. Could we have done more? Our answer is no. We exhausted all options. I have no guilt that we didn’t do all we could.
What is really taking its toll is knowing how much she had been suffering. The depression. The internal battle to stop drinking and her inability to stop. And how helpless we were in fixing that.
Our daughter was very educated. She had a PhD in clinical psychology. Ironically, she started her career helping addict veterans who were also fighting PTSD. A noble cause and we were so proud of her. She was super intelligent and that played against her.
There aren’t enough adjectives to describe how my wife and I feel.
Our daughter died alone.
No friends, no family, not even her dog, which we had been taking care of.
During one of our last conversations, she said she would pick up her precious Bean at Thanksgiving. There won’t be another Thanksgiving for her. Bean is now our dog and our connection to our little girl.
For all of you who have suffered a similar loss or have someone close going through this, don’t give up.
You must hang on to hope.
When word reached friends and family of her passing, there was such an overwhelming outpouring of love. It was powerful and wonderful. And it reinforced our knowledge that all the things we think are important are not important all.
Mankind is full of good, beautiful, human beings and for that my wife and I will be forever grateful.
Whether you believe in God or are religious or not; at times like these you do need to find some solace somewhere when asking yourself, “Why?”
A long-time friend summed it up; God called her back home.
I’m going with that.
I thank you for sharing your experience and connecting with the many other people who have lived through similar situations. Because I always look for analogies in current real world events, it greatly troubles me that just like we are seeing parents being unable to save their troubled children, we are watching the public being unable to save our troubled society. Berney
My heart goes out to you and your family and my prayers for you to be comforted by Gods perfect love. You are not alone. I as well as many have felt your pain and I’m praying that you reach out to the Lord Who knows your sorrow and holds your sweet girl in His hands. 🙏